4.19.2009

Alex Jordan's Palm

I played a show in Winona, MN this weekend and decided to pay a 2nd visit to The House on the Rock in Spring Green, WI. It's a weird, weird place. It inspired another poem (also wrote one for the book). I recorded some of the weirdo music machines with my phone (hit play). Check out the pics too. - xo, Jenny

Past the snarls of buckthornpast the stiff stubble of hay in the fieldsup into the slopes of newborn green.Analog keys float overa sugar snap snare beat.Grainy and fury, the sound ofbeer belly tom-tomsdropped into our palmslike shiny new tokens.We took them directly intohis world’s fair,his austere dynastywhich finds few modern patronswho understand the maple sap natureof his erotic eccentricities.It’s lost on ticket-holding suburb bunniesTheir tokens slip into coin box slotsprompting the mis-hits and dis-chords- all necessarily imperfect- all like red paint on barns clinging throughthe decades in faded gloryThey prompt sugar plumb cymbalsand beer belly tympanisin a full flight of movementwhose sound is like crawling dendritescoercing us in an honored invitational.I accepted,and into my palm fella used tokenThe door crashed intothe strange geometry of his day old partiesWho were his guests?Where did they come from?Somewhere in these hills must laytheir landing strips and helipads.They came bearing exotic liqueurs,hookah fodder, and something sleek:A musky tokenfor Alex’s palmLink to Photo Album